


Shattered Illusions

by robrafgon



Series: Shattered Illusions [1]
Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2014-12-17
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:50:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2790593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robrafgon/pseuds/robrafgon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lone Wanderer has saved the Wasteland, but at what personal expense? What happens now that no one is pushing her to save it? And will her violent past stay buried? Does the hero remain? Or does she leave that life behind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. From Whence You Came

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! Welcome to my story it will be going for quite some time. Got a lot planned for it! So I hope you enjoy. Feedback, thoughts, and comments are very welcome.  
>  robrafgon

“You can tell Tenpenny he can kiss my ASS! We got plenty of bottlecaps. Let. Me. In. GODDAMNIT!”

 

The harsh, angry voice cracked through the air like a gunshot. Well, maybe not a gunshot. Perhaps something less common than a gunshot. If it was a gunshot, the Wanderer supposed she would react. Then again in her condition she might not.

 

_Just ignore it. It's not your problem._

The still, Wasteland air hung heavy; its oppressive heat pushing down on her. Her shoulders sagged under its weight and her feet dragged through the dirt. One after the other. Left. Right. Repeat. She paused momentarily, her feet scraping to a halt in the cracked earth.

 

“How many times do we have to go through this? You're not getting in,” a second voice replied. This one was crackly and distorted. An intercom, she realized.

 

Standing still with her shadow fanned out behind her, the Wanderer closed her eyes against the harsh sunlight of the Capital Wasteland. Not that it did much good. The light bled right through her eyelids. She silently wished for a pair of sunglasses. She didn't even care what style. Whatever she could come across. She'd had a pair of sunglasses once. A nice pair of aviators. Butch had gotten them for her. But they were long gone, just like he was. She opened her eyes and folded her fingers over her brow just like she'd done when she first exited Vault 101. By now her eyes had adjusted to the outside, but nonetheless it was still very bright out.

 

“I can stand here all day yelling at you through this damn speaker if I have to!”

 

It was the first voice again. Still angry. Maybe I should see what's going on, she thought to herself.

 

_It's. Not. Your. Problem._

The Wander closed her eyes again, but this time it wasn't against the light. Her brow furrowed and she massaged her dark skin wearily. The voice was getting loud again.

 

**_Not unless you look._ **

****

“Voices” she corrected. Not just one anymore.

 

_Don't look._

**_Look_ ** _._

_Don't do it._

**_LOOK!!!_ **

****

They were so loud! She grit her teeth in frustration. If only Three Dog could see his beloved Lone Wanderer now, she thought bitterly. Ha. Lone Wanderer. She was never alone. Not anymore. _They_ wouldn't leave her alone.

 

The Wanderer sighed wearily. She might as well look, if not to satisfy her own curiosity then to shut them up. That would be the easiest way to return to the quiet of the Wasteland. Or she could get a fix.

 

She shook her head like a dog. No. Don't think about that. That'll just make things worse. She'd run out of Jet last night. Psycho two nights before that. Her hands would begin to shake soon. She'd gone through withdrawal symptoms plenty of times before to know exactly what awaited her.

 

To distract herself from the unpleasantness in her immediate future she craned her neck to the side to see exactly who was shouting.

 

Her eyes widened slightly. Where was she? Towering above her was a building in most of its prewar glory. It stood as an unusual and out of place pillar of decadence surrounded by desert and decay. A wall surrounded the building. Standing before a metal gate stood an irate ghoul. He was pounding his decaying fist against the wall right next to a battered intercom.

 

“I've already told you Tenpenny won't allow zombies to live here,” crackled the intercom.

 

The ghoul stood back, shaking in barely contained rage.

 

“Who the hell are you calling a zombie!?!?”

 

The ghoul's scratchy voice grated against her nerves. Raw fire coursed through her head.

 

_“You wouldn't be withdrawing if you'd killed that scavenger a week ago. He had chems._

The voice sounded bitter. Like it wanted the chems even though they would silence it. But she didn't know if the scavenger had anything. She had no way of knowing that. The voice was probably just bitter that she hadn't killed him. That's all it ever wanted. Blood and destruction. Then again she'd wanted the scavenger dead too. She'd just wanted him dead because he was an ass. She didn't have any caps to pay and he'd wanted... other methods of payment. After telling him she wouldn't sleep with him he'd packed his wares away and taken off. So, no Jet or Psycho for her. Or water, or food for that matter.

 

Her headache intensified and her stomach suddenly heaved. Fuck, she'd even take Med-X or Buffout right about now. Anything to take the edge off.

 

“You're definitely not human, that's for damn sure. For the last time: NO ZOMBIES ALLOWED!” the speaker man shouted with commanding finality.

 

“Can't tell the difference between me and a feral?”

 

The stupid ghoul was yelling again. All she wanted was for the yelling to stop.

 

**_You can help them. They'll stop shouting then._ **

****

If the first voice wanted nothing but blood, then the second wanted nothing but the opposite. Throw yourself at other people's problems. Take everyone's pain away. Like that did anything to take away her own pain.

 

_Or you could shoot them. Can't shout if you're dead._

 

She scrunched her eyes up as tight as she could. They weren't there. It was all in her head. There were no voices. There weren't. She was alone.

 

Always alone.

 

Her fingers twitched. It was the beginnings of the shakes. Goddamn it, she really needed a fix.

 

“Fine. I'll show you the goddamn difference! Just you wait,” the ghoul shouted before stomping away from the speaker with his rotting face twisted up in fury. He whirled back towards the tower, shaking his fist vehemently.

 

“You'll get yours. All of you!”

 

He turned on his heel and stomped towards the Wanderer, fuming.

 

“Is there anything I can help you with?” she asked meekly, her headache growing stronger by the minute.

 

“Out of my fucking way, smoothskin,” he said brusquely. He pushed past her, deliberately bumping into the girl. The Wanderer stumbled and nearly fell. Red surged across her vision. Rage filled her every corner. How dare he do that? Did he know who she was? What she'd done for him? What she'd done for the entire, stupid, fucking Wasteland? What she'd lost? HOW DARE HE?

 

The voices were shouting again, but they were silenced compared to the blood pounding in her ears. Her quivering hand was steadying by the second and it strayed towards the revolver holstered at her hip. The ghoul didn't even notice. He just kept walking, unaware of what he'd done.

 

_YES! Do it! Kill him!_

The voice wanted blood? Well, it was going to get it this time. Her palm brushed the grip and she drew the revolver. The voice was cackling with glee. The other one was sullenly silent. She leveled the gun at the ghoul. Even without VATS, the ghoul was a dead man.

 

“You've got a bright future ahead of you, sweetie. I'm sure of it...”

 

Her eyes shot wide open and her jaw dropped slightly. Her quivering hand released the gun and it clattered to the dirt. That voice wasn't one of hers. That was the voice of a dead man. No. No. She couldn't take this. He was dead. Dead! Her vision started to blur. His voice couldn't be here! It couldn't! It was impossible! Dead men do _not_ talk. The Wanderer felt like the world was crumbling around her. This was not something she could handle. She couldn't take this. He was DEAD! “No, no, no, no,” she muttered weakly. The Wanderer sank to her knees in the dirt. The shaking in her hands spread to the rest of her body. She hugged herself and rocked back and forth. Tears threatened to well over and spill from her eyes.

 

The ghoul never even turned back.

 

The Wanderer sat there in the shadow of the tower, gasping for air. She had to- She didn't know what she had to do. She couldn't think. Her head was too full. What did she have to do? What could she do? She had to-

 

 

She had to go home.

 

With a heaving sob and a gasp for air, she staggered to her feet. She grabbed her revolver and glanced at the compass on her PipBoy and took off at a ragged sprint in the opposite direction the ghoul had stalked off in. The rocks and landscapes blurred past her. None of it registered to her torn and panicked mind. She just had to get away from that voice! If she could just get home then everything would be alright. It had to be.

 

Past the RobCo facility. Past Fort Independence she ran. She could see the walls of Megaton in the distance and knew she was almost there. Almost. Crags of rock rose in front of her as she passed under crumbling highways. Her foot caught and she fell. Her knees cut on the rock, but she barely felt it. Up into the slight hills she ran. But it wasn't Megaton she was running towards. It was her home before the Wasteland. The home before she'd lost it all.

 

Coming to a shuddering stop and panting heavily, she saw it. The door in the rock.

 

The door to Vault 101.

 

She tore open the door and stumbled down the corridor carved in the earth. Up ahead she saw the great door to the Vault. The proud 101 still emblazoned in paint shined on its metal surface. With shaking hands, from nerves or from withdrawal, she was not sure, she slowly reached towards the control panel. Tentatively she punched in the code.

 

 

The password had been changed.

 

_But you knew that._

**_Why do you always come back here?_ **

 

Why did she always come back? The Wanderer staggered backwards against the rock wall and slid down it. The tears did spill this time. They tracked through the mud and grime caked on her face. She started to sob.

 

“W-why... why won't you let m-me back?” she cried.

 

“WHY!?!” she shouted at the camera above the door.

 

She lunged at the door and began pounding away. She felt bones break in one of her hands, but she didn't care. The pain was a relief. It meant she could feel something other than the mind numbing sorrow that ran through her.

 

“WHY!?!?” she screamed again. “LET ME IN!!! PLEASE!!!”

 

Her hits fell weaker and weaker against the Vault. The Wanderer slid down it sobbing into the dirt. She collapsed, her face lying in the grime.

 

“Please. I just want to go home.”

 

“I don't want to be alone.” cried the Lone Wanderer.


	2. Goodbye, My Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking through the first chapter. It was a rough one that was meant to be more of an introduction. Now we can start getting to the actual story. Feedback, thoughts, and comments are appreciated!  
>  robrafgon

Her first sensation upon waking up was sticky wetness. A rough tongue pulled across her face dragging more saliva with it. The Wanderer sat up quickly, her revolver drawn in the blink of an eye. A happy bark greeted her return to consciousness. A large, black and gray mongrel sat happily with the barrel of the gun between his eyes.

 

“Dogmeat.”

 

The Wanderer smiled at the mongrel. For such a fierce beast the dog acted like a puppy at times. He sat back on his haunches with his tail sweeping back and forth across the dirt floor. His tongue flopped out to the side in a comical way. Strands of the same saliva coating her face hung from his jaws. She drew her forearm across her face.

 

“Blech.”

 

The dog barked happily. He seemed to think his saliva was a welcome gift to the poor girl. She, however, did not want to think about where her dog's mouth had been.

 

“Were you waiting for me, boy? Were you?”

 

She scratched under his chin. Dogmeat's eyes closed in happiness. Despite her former maudlin attitude, the dog's mood was infectious. She pulled the hound in close and hugged him. Dirt and blood was caked into his fur, but she didn't care. Dirt and blood was caked in her hair as well. Of the two of them she wasn't actually sure who was cleaner. She actually feared washing her hair. The fearsome angel wings crowning her head on either side had taken considerable time to cultivate and the water might ruin it.

 

“Come on, pup. Let's go outside.”

 

Planting a hand on the wall, she hoisted herself to her feet. The room spun around her. She groaned miserably. She hadn't crashed this hard in a long time. Her need for chems was growing desperate. She tried to take a step, but stumbled and keeled over towards Dogmeat. The dog yelped in surprise, but managed get out of the way as his owner thudded into the dust moaning. He stepped up to her cautiously and sniffed her head. He cautiously stuck his tongue out and licked her ear. She rolled away from it and puked. After several more dry heaves she felt steady enough to get to her knees.

 

“Come here, boy. I need a hand.” She motioned for Dogmeat to come closer. He dutifully stuck his neck under her hand and helped support his master. After the better part of ten minutes and a great deal of aid from the wall and Dogmeat, the Wanderer shuffled out of the tunnel and into the bright sunshine. She turned her face from the light and sagged against the cliff-side. She must have been in the tunnel all night and most of the morning.

 

“Ooohh. God. It's too bright. Too bright,” she murmured and closed her eyes in pain.

 

With several shaking steps she carefully walked over to a group of rocks looking out towards Megaton. Taking a seat on one she rested her head in her hands. Her head was pounding. The drums of withdrawal beating a rapid tempo against her skull.

 

“Dogmeat. Here.” The dog heeded her command and trotted over.

 

“I need you to find something for me? Okay, boy? Here. Smell.”

 

She fished in her pocket for an empty container of Jet. The dog sniffed the container. Immediately, his ears flattened against his skull and a low growl rumbled out of his chest.

 

“Please, boy. I need it,” she whispered. The growl petered out into a whine before the dog turned and trotted off. The Wanderer laid back and splayed out on the boulder.

 

“Good boy,” she murmured. Her eyes closed and she sighed. Even her dog disliked them, but she had to have the chems. She'd needed them almost as soon as she left the Vault. At first they'd been used to keep her subjugated, but later they'd kept her in one piece as she trekked across the Wasteland to find... _him._ They'd helped her heal, aim her gun, fight, and survive all for _him_. She couldn't think about him. Not right now. She couldn't think about anything. Something poked into her thigh. God she hoped it wasn't a person. The poking became more insistent. She cracked one eye open. It was Dogmeat. He'd returned.

 

“Back so soon, boy?” The dog dropped something at his mistress's feet. The Wanderer sat up with a groan. Her stomach still hadn't fully settled. She bent down and picked up what her dog had retrieved.

 

It was a hand. A human hand. But in that hand was... a full inhaler of Jet.

 

A smile broke out across her face. She knew she shouldn't be happy to see the drug, but she was. She didn't really care how addicted she was. As long as she kept getting her fix there wouldn't be a problem. No voices, no worries, just blissful nothingness. The Wanderer eagerly peeled the fingers of the hand back and cupped the inhaler to her face. She breathed in and grinned as the heady rush spread throughout her body. The shaking stopped, her aches and pains faded, and a wonderful tingling replaced them. Dogmeat nervously pawed at her leg. She glanced down and he put his head on her thigh and looked up at her. She scratched him on his head with a smile.

 

“Everything's all right boy. Everything is all right.”

 

The Wanderer scooched over on the boulder and patted it. The dog hopped up and sat down on his haunches. She leaned over and rested her head on his shoulder. “Thank you, Dogmeat. You really saved me there.”

 

The dog just nipped her ear affectionately. She giggled and jerked back. Dogmeat was the only one who could get her like this. Smiling and laughing. The smile on her face was genuine. To anyone else her smiles never touched her eyes, but for the dog it was completely real. That was because the dog was the one person who didn't judge her. He loved her unconditionally and that was all she needed.

 

“What am I doing here, Dogmeat? What's going on with me? I can't even think anymore. There's just too many voices up here. All competing to be heard, but I just don't care what they have to say anymore.”

 

She didn't know what she was expecting. The dog wasn't going to answer.

 

“They were all shouting at me today. I couldn't handle it. I had to come home, but the Vault... I-” She choked back a sob again. Tears started to run down her cheek.

 

“They locked me out, Dogmeat. They locked me out of my home.” Dogmeat licked the tears off her cheek. The two of them sat there and looked out over the Wasteland. Megaton rose up in the distance.

 

“Megaton isn't home. Not anymore. They just want their hero. The Hero of the Wasteland! But I'm not her. Not anymore.” She laughed. “It's not like I ever was. Where do I go Dogmeat? Where can I go? The Wasteland doesn't want me. Nobody does.” A piteous whine escaped from Dogmeat's mouth.

 

“I know you do.” She scratched his ears and he panted happily.

 

“I heard his voice today...” The Wanderer pulled a shaky breath into her lungs. “I heard him, Dogmeat. I was going to shoot this ghoul and I heard his voice.” The dog looked at her quizzically.

 

“I _heard_ him, Dogmeat.” She kept trying to explain. “It was him! I know he's dead, but I heard him! Some ghoul outside of this tower pissed me off and I was just going to kill him! And then I heard his voice! Am I finally losing it, Dogmeat? Is this it?” The tears started falling now. She couldn't stop it. Dogmeat scrabbled off the rock and stuck his head into her hands, trying to comfort the sobbing girl.

 

There just wasn't room in the Wasteland for the Lone Wanderer anymore. She'd saved them all and they'd left her by herself. The Brotherhood had thanked her for her service, given her an honorary knighthood, and kicked her out the door. Rivet City had never trusted her. Megaton just wanted to worship her as their hero, but didn't want _her_ , and the Vault was locked. There was nowhere else. No. The Wanderer paused mid-sob. Wait. The tower. Tenpenny Tower. People lived there. And from what she could tell they weren't the average Wasteland type either. They had walls, they had security, and most importantly they didn't know her. That's where she could go! But how could she get in? They clearly weren't letting just anyone in.

 

The Wanderer furrowed her brow. How could she get in there? She cupped her chin on a palm and stared off past Megaton.

 

The bomb.

 

She knew how she could get in. Mr. Burke.

 

That slimy bastard she'd met when she'd first gotten to Megaton. He'd wanted her to blow up Megaton. At the time she'd been horribly opposed to it and instead disarmed it and set Sheriff Simms on the man. He worked for Mr. Tenpenny. Burke was his man in the Wastes. Finding whatever needed to be found and doing whatever needed to be done. She'd certainly offended him and set him back, but a man like Mr. Burke was always open to negotiations. And she certainly had things to offer him. Her skill set made her uniquely qualified to do whatever he needed.

 

She rose to her feet, startling Dogmeat in the process. “Come on, Dogmeat. We've got to get back to Megaton. Quickly.”

 

The two of them ran off down the hill Vault 101 rested atop. They jogged off through the ruins towards the township. The Wanderers mind was racing the entire time. Tenpenny Tower might be just what she was looking for. A new home where no one knew her and no one would judge her. She could just live her life. And she had Moriarty in Megaton for easy access to her chems. Since she wouldn't be aimlessly wandering the Wasteland she could always come back and get more from the bar owner. This could be it!

 

She sprinted faster, her past problems forgotten. Dogmeat hurdled some debris next to her and barked happily. First, she had to resupply. She wasn't going to be let in Tenpenny Tower looking like a raider. The blastmaster armor she was clad in had served her well the past few weeks, but between it and all the blood covering her, she would be unsurprised if a nervous person shot her on sight.

 

“Hold it right there!”

 

Speaking of which.

 

The Wanderer slowed to a stop in front of the gates of Megaton. Deputy Weld stood there with his beam charging, but holding fire. However, it wasn't him who had spoken. Lucas Simms, sheriff and mayor of Megaton, stepped out from the shadows of Megaton's walls. He had his assault rifle shouldered and aimed at her.

 

“Don't move, raider. You best keep on walking.” The Wanderer scowled at him. “Lower you rifle, Simms.”

 

Simms frowned. His barrel dipped slightly, but didn't stray far. “Wait a minute. Wanderer?”

 

“I said put your gun down!” she hissed through her teeth. She didn't like anyone pointing their guns at her, but Simms was a special case. She _hated_ him pointing his at her.

 

“Shit, girl. I didn't recognize you. Thought you wouldn't be keen to put raider armor on again.”

 

“It's better than being naked.” She stalked forward and tried to brush past him, but he put a restraining hand on her chest and held her back. She swatted his hand away angrily. “Don't touch me, Simms!” She pushed past him and he grabbed her shoulder this time. “Hold it.” As soon as his hand grabbed her she spun around and had her revolver pushed into his throat.

 

“You gonna shoot me?”

 

“I'm considering it.” Deputy Weld clunked up behind her. “I'd reconsider before my Deputy puts a laser bolt in your back.” The Wanderer slowly pulled the gun away from his throat. He breathed a sigh of relief and rubbed his neck.

 

“Damn, girl. Thought you were really going to do it.”

 

“I was,” she replied vehemently.

 

Simms frown deepened. “Now, come on. I'm just making sure you're all right.”

 

“Like you care.”

 

“I do-”

 

“Don't lie to me, Simms. Don't,” she interrupted. “I'm just here to grab some things from my home and see Moriarty.”

 

“Right. Of course you are. Got to get your fix.”

 

“Don't even go there.” The Wanderer got up in his face and jabbed her finger into his chest. “Don't bother me, Simms. I'll be in and out in an hour. So stay out of my way.” Simms looked like he was going to continue arguing, but he sighed and stepped to the side. The Wanderer walked away without a second look. Dogmeat growled at the sheriff as he passed.

 

The Wanderer cut off to the right as soon as she was through the gate. Moriarty's Saloon was at the back of Megaton and she was in no way going to interact with the general populace if she didn't have to. With Dogmeat on her heels she walked through the shadows behind the main buildings of the town. She hated coming here, but Moriarty was the only way to get large amounts of chems in the Wasteland. Well, except for raiders, but she shot raiders on sight, so Evergreen Mills was unlikely to deal with her.

 

“Well, as I live and breathe, the Lone Wanderer!”

 

The Irish brogue of the speaker interrupted her musings. Moriarty was leaning on the railing outside his saloon, smoking a cigarette and staring out over the rest of the city below. “And how can I help our fair hero on this fine day?”

 

The Wanderer narrowed her eyes at him, but restrained herself. She still needed the man, so while she didn't have to be polite, she suspected that punching him would not be beneficial to their dealings.

 

“I'm here for my pickup,” she said. Moriarty nodded and turned to head back into the Saloon, but was caught by the Wanderer. “I need a larger supply than usual. At least a month.”

 

“Well, now. Planning a little trip are we?” Again, not wanting to sabotage her dealings the Wanderer opted to stay silent. “That'll involve a price increase, Wanderer.” She just threw a bag of caps at him.

 

Moriarty hefted the bag in one hand and, apparently satisfied, motioned for the Wanderer to follow him into the bar. “Give me a moment to get your new order ready. Get a drink on the house while you wait.”

 

She nodded and followed him in. All eyes seemed to turn and focus on the newcomers. Many turned right back to their drinks when seeing who it was. Unlike the rest of the city, Moriarty's Saloon was well acquainted with the Wanderer. Billy Creel studiously refused to look up from the table towards her. Gob muttered a nervous, “Wanderer,” before pouring her a glass of rum. Nova quickly shifted away from the bar as she approached. The Wanderer was no business she wanted ever again. Too much crazy, she'd told Gob. Without looking at anyone, the Wanderer sat down at the bar. She picked up her glass and drained it. The saloon seemed to exhale a held breath. She wasn't there for any of them. Once upon a time a girl had come into Moriarty's Saloon asking questions. Now a days, it was the Lone Wanderer who came in and she wasn't keen on asking anyone anything. She preferred much more direct methods now.

 

“Here you are, Wanderer. One months supply. Assorted.” The Wanderer turned. Moriarty stood behind her holding a duffel bag, a bag she knew to be stuffed with chems. She took the bag and turned to leave.

 

“As usual thanks for the business!” he called after her. “Nova! What are you doing, skulking over there? Gob! Get back to work.”

 

His shouts were cut off as the door closed. The Wanderer leaned on the same railing Moriarty had occupied not a few minutes earlier. She unzipped the duffel. Inside were bunches of Jet inhalers as well as over a dozen needles full of Psycho. As she closed the bag, she looked down into the main square at the undetonated atomic bomb. Mr. Burke had first approached her here at the Saloon and asked her to sabotage it. She'd immediately turned on him. Now here she was. Preparing herself to crawl back to him. It didn't bother her. Pride had been something stripped away from her long ago by the Wasteland. Pride just got you killed. Standing next to the bomb was Lucas Simms. The sheriff might be giving her space, but he wasn't going to let her out of his sight. He shook his head sadly when he caught sight of the bag. The Wanderer made a point not to give him the satisfaction of showing that she'd noticed him.

 

With Dogmeat on her heels, she walked along the upper catwalks of Megaton towards the house the people had gifted her in gratitude. “Look who's back in town?” called Jericho as she walked past his residence. While he was no longer a raider, the fact that he'd once upon a time been one earned him a place on her bad side. Before he could start anything, she quickly unlocked her front door and escaped inside.

 

Wadsworth was there to greet her with an enthusiastic, “Greetings, Mistress!” She waved hello and instructed the robotic butler to start preparing her gear for her. “Wadsworth, grab the nicest set of leather armor I have out of the closet. I'll also need some weapons. I'll leave that to your discretion.” The droid tipped its head in a shallow bow and busied itself readying her supplies. Dogmeat trotted past him and dropped to the floor next to the stove. He was familiar enough with the house to recognize it as safe to take a nap. The Wanderer left the two of them in the main room and ascended the stairs to her private room. She stripped of the blastmaster armor and sat on the bed. She looked down at herself as she struggled to pull off her boots. Scars crisscrossed her grimy skin. Several tattoos adorned her arms. It was almost a stranger's body to her. She walked across the small rooms and rubbed a clean patch in the mirror hanging on the wall. Haunted eyes looked back at her. The innocent girl who'd once left Vault 101 was gone. In her place was a fearsome woman. Her head was framed by the fearsome double mohawk she'd adopted months ago. Her hair had been died a vivid scarlet, but her natural black showed at the roots. Even her eyes had changed. Once vivid green, the Wanderers eyes had over time changed to dirty red from ruptured blood vessels due to the excessive chem use she'd put her body through. Her skin was stained with dirt, sweat, and blood. Her body was a mess of damage and grime. That's why she'd abandoned her old armored Vault suit in favor of the raider armor. At least it was mostly new.

 

She sighed into the mirror. No use dwelling on the past. Now she was trying to make herself a new life. One that wasn't fraught with misery and suffering. Or at least her own misery and suffering. She pulled the grimy sports bra over her head. The thing had been stained with more sweat and blood than she cared to admit. The panties too. She kicked them off onto the bed with the rest of her old clothes.

 

“Excuse me, mistress, I have your- Oh my! I am so sorry, mistress! I didn't realize you weren't decent!” The Wanderer looked over her shoulder. Wadsworth was hovering in the doorway and trying hard to avert his optical sensor to protect her modesty, another thing she'd simply gotten used to giving up to the Wasteland.

 

“Do you have my armor, Wadsworth?” she asked. “Yes, mistress,” answered the droid. “Put it on the bed then.” “Of course.”

 

The Wanderer walked back across the room to her dresser. She opened several drawers until she found some mostly clean undergarments. Wadsworth floated awkwardly to the bed with his back turned to her. He laid a meticulously cared for set of leather armor on the bed. The Wanderer nodded in satisfaction. The butler had kept good care of the items she'd left in the house. With his duty done, the robot hurried from the room. If he had the capacity to, the Wanderer was sure he'd have been blushing. She quickly dressed herself and returned to the downstairs. Wadsworth had just finished laying out her weapons on the table.

 

“What do you have for me, Wadsworth?”

 

“Ah! Yes. I've selected the weapons in highest repair that you've stored here, mistress. I was unsure of your destination so, I've brought out the best variety for any adventurer. A Chinese Assault Rifle for you madam, along with a 10mm handgun and this rather impressive sawed off shotgun. As well as a combat knife. I was unable to find any of your swords, mistress.”

 

“It's alright, Wadsworth. This is fine.” she murmured as she assessed the weapons. The knife was holstered along her breast (easy access for both hands) and the pistol on her thigh in the holster rig Wadsworth had thoughtfully prepared. The shotgun was tucked into a strap along the small of her back and the rifle slung over her shoulder. She shouldered the duffel bag of chems and headed for the door.

 

“Mistress! Are you leaving already?” exclaimed the droid in a panic. “Yes, Wadsworth. I was just here for a resupply.”

 

“It's not because I interrupted your dressing earlier, mistress, was it?”

 

The Wanderer smiled at the fussy robot. “No, Wadsworth. It's nothing you did.” The droid seemed relieved.

 

“Oh, well. Do return quickly. You spend far too much time away from home.”

 

The Wanderer's smile dropped. “I know, Wadsworth. I know.” If everything went according to plan then the Wanderer would never have to return to this house again. Maybe she could bring the robot butler with her? No. She was leaving her old life behind. She wasn't bringing anything with her.

 

Except Dogmeat, but he was an exception.

 

She called for her hound and walked out the door of her house for the last time. Her future lay to the southwest in Tenpenny Tower.


	3. Make Me A Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Busting along to our destination! Welcome to Tenpenny Tower! Thoughts, feedback, and comments are appreciated greatly!  
>  robrafgon

The sun was just beginning to rise as the Wanderer and Dogmeat crested the final hill between them and their destination. Tenpenny Tower stood in resplendent glory as the sun's rays fell on it. The early light painted the tower in vivid yellows and oranges. The Wanderer smiled.

 

It was her first genuine smile (asides the ones reserved for Dogmeat) in a long while. She couldn't remember the last time she was looking forward to something. Usually her life consisted of reacting to problems in the moment or having an immediate concern to deal with, but Tenpenny Tower was different. This was a new future, one that wasn't overshadowed by her past.

 

The two of them descended the hill and headed for the main gate. The black steel rose up above her head. The bars had metal sheets and grating welded to both sides to bolster its defensiveness. The Wanderer slowly approached the intercom with apprehension. What was this? Why was she nervous? She grimaced bitterly as she realized what the feeling was. Hope. Hope was something she was used to being disappointed in. Not this time, however. This time she wasn't letting go of her hope without a fight.

 

She pressed the button on the intercom next to the gate. A loud buzzing broke the quiet morning. She heard movement on the other side of the wall. A tired voice, different than the one she'd first heard, answered with a yawn.

 

“Ugh, what do you want? It's 7AM,” the voice complained. “Come back later. Or better yet not at all.”

 

The intercom clicked off, but a muttered, “Stupid bitch,” was still heard from outside the gate.

 

“I'm here to see Mr. Burke.”

 

A muffled curse floated over the wall. The guard had not pressed the transmit button on the intercom, but his dismay at accidentally trying to dismiss one of Burke's supposed employees couldn't be hidden that easy. The Wanderer enjoyed that. She always reveled in the fear she inspired which she realized probably was not a healthy feeling, but what was healthy in her life these days?

 

“Right, right. My apologies,” he hastily returned through the intercom. “I'll buzz you in.”

 

With another buzz the intercom shut off. A distinctive click sounded as the gate unlocked. With a groan one of the metal doors was pulled open. A young guard stood in the doorway with his rifle trained out at the Wasteland. The Wanderer eyed his rifle.

 

“Sorry, sorry. It's not for you ma'am,” he lowered his rifle. “All sorts of scum try to get into Tenpenny Tower. It's our job to make sure that doesn't happen, but you'd know all about that being one of Mr. Burke's employees.”

 

“Of course,” replied the Wanderer. “You never know who'll do something stupid and try to get in here.”

 

“Tell me about it.” The guard shrugged and stepped aside, waving her in. “We've had these ghouls trying to get in for the past couple of weeks. It's starting to get some of the residents on edge.”

 

The Wanderer listened intently and only agreed with a muted, “Mmmm.”

 

“But don't let me hold you up, ma'am. Head right in the main doors. Chief Gustavo should be in the lobby. Talk to him about your meeting with Mr. Burke.” The Wanderer nodded and turned to leave.

 

“Oh, and ma'am! If you wouldn't mind. Please don't mention what I said earlier, I mean, if you could. I didn't know who you were and the night shift is very stressful and I just...” His excuses petered out.

 

“It'll be our little secret,” she replied with a fearsome smile.

 

With that the Wanderer left the terrified guard at the gates. Dogmeat kept close to her heels as they entered the tower. He was uncomfortable being in a new place and was thus expecting danger. Which apparently meant that he had to stay close enough to her to trip her if she tried to move sideways.

 

The Wanderer just shook her head at the paranoid dog. The dangerous part was over. Getting through the main gate was the primary challenge. From here on out it should just be honey coated words to cement her place here. From what the guard had told her, the ghoul problem she'd witnessed was a more serious issue for the tower than she'd initially thought. Which was good. She could use that with Burke. The man's silver tongue made him a formidable negotiator, but she was no slouch in that department either. She may prefer to talk with guns and blades, but when necessary she could certainly talk someone down from a ledge, or her way into a prestigious private residence.

 

“And who the hell are you,” a voice interrupted.

 

The interrupter was a large Hispanic man clad in the same armor as the gate guard. However, his was significantly nicer. His voice was also the one she'd first heard on the intercom.

 

“Chief Gustavo,” she surmised aloud.

 

“Yeah, now I repeat, 'who the hell are you?'”

 

“I'm here for a meeting with Mr. Burke.”

 

“Great,” he muttered. “Mr. Burke neglected to mention you'd be stopping by. Which he's usually very adamant about. Plenty of trash out their in the Wasteland. Plenty of dangerous people too.” Chief Gustavo's hand strayed to the pistol at his side.

 

“And which one do you think I am?” Dogmeat punctuated the question with a growl, but the Wanderer remained still.

 

“Don't get cute, missy,” Gustavo returned. “May I ask what your business with Mr. Burke is?”

 

“You should know. You were arguing with it the other morning.”

 

Gustavo's hand came off his gun and his stance loosened up. “Roy Phillips? Burke finally hired someone to deal with that zombie? Finally! Someone's going to wipe his little zombie group off the map.”

 

“Not necessarily. I'm just supposed to solve the problem. The 'how' is up to my discretion.”

 

“Your bleeding heart is liable to get you in a lot of trouble one day. Look kid, eventually all ghouls go zombie on your ass, it's only a matter of time. Kill them when you find them. It's a win-win. You put them out of their misery, and save someone else from getting torn apart.”

 

“Perhaps. Killing isn't _off_ the table, but why waste the bullets if I don't have to?”

 

The Wanderer smiled wide at the security chief who shifted uncomfortably. He'd clearly gotten the measure of the young woman wrong. Whoever she was, he did not want anything to do with her. Burke's people were Burke's problem, and he didn't like the way that monstrous hound was eying him either. Though he wasn't sure which one of them unnerved him more.

 

“Fine, whatever. Your problem. Welcome to Tenpenny Tower. Don't do anything stupid.”

 

The Wanderer nodded her assent. “And where is Mr. Burke?”

 

“Out. He should be back shortly. Feel free to visit any of the businesses here on the first floor. Anything else is off limits, and don't bother the residents either,” he warned sternly. “Actually just stay out of their way completely, why don't you?”

 

He eyed the Wanderer from top to bottom. “Some of our more esteemed residents might find your appearance offensive. Though, now that I think about, Dashwood would probably enjoy talking to someone with your... qualities.”

 

The Wanderer just smiled again. Chief Gustavo was again shaken by the feeling he assumed would be similar to staring down a shark. “I'll just be over there.” The Wanderer pointed to a bench on the far side of the atrium.

 

“...Right.”

 

The Wanderer and Dogmeat retired to the bench. Leaning her head back against the cool marble of the walls she observed the atrium of Tenpenny Tower. To say it was beautiful was an understatement. It was magnificent. Deserted at the moment, but magnificent nonetheless. Tenpenny had meticulously made sure that the prewar hotel had not lost any of its glory.

 

With her head resting, the Wanderer closed her eyes. This was going to be her new home! A life in the lap of luxury. Excitement made her fingers tingle, or maybe that was the Jet. It didn't matter. Sure, she would have to occasionally leave the tower to continue earning her residency, but if everything went according to plan with Burke and the ghouls she would have a place to lie her head at night and spend her days in comfort.

 

“So, you're the one who managed to talk her way in here.”

 

The cool voice of Mr. Burke broke her reverie. Slowly opening her eyes the Wanderer was greeted to the sight of Mr. Burke flanked by Gustavo and several other guards.

 

“I'm sorry, Mr. Burke. I didn't realize you didn't know her. We'll escort her from the premises immediately.”

 

“Oh, no, Gustavo. I do know her. Which is why I would greatly appreciate it if you and your men would keep your weapons trained on her.” The clack off rifles being shouldered accompanied the guards hurrying to obey his orders.

 

“I'm not here for trouble, Burke.”

 

“Oh, really? And is there any reason why I should listen to a word you say? You've stabbed me in the back in the past. Though I must say I should be thankful it was in the past. The new you would _literally_ stab me in the back.”

 

“I have a proposition for you.”

 

“And why would you have a proposition for me?”

 

The Wanderer leaned forward and unfolded her hands from where they were resting and put one on Dogmeat's neck.

 

“As you said. I'm a new me.”

 

Mr. Burke appeared to be mulling over the costs and benefits in his head. The man was cautious if nothing else. He was probably thinking it would be safer to just shoot her. She'd have to tip the man's opinion in her favor.

 

“Or you could just shoot me, but then those ghouls will probably just rally enough of their kind to take the tower from you. I think Roy Phillips is done offering caps.”

 

Burke's eyes narrowed. “And just what are you proposing? That you'll deal with him?”

 

The Wanderer's cold smile returned. “Not at all. My proposal is giving you access to my talents. Whatever you need, I will be happy to oblige. Dealing with Phillips, consider it an interview.”

 

“And just what will this cost me?”

 

“Residency.”

 

It was Mr. Burke's turn to smile.

 

“And just why would you want to live in Tenpenny Tower? And don't tell me it's the décor or the company.”

 

“I'm tired of the Wasteland,” she replied. “I want someplace to live where people don't look at me as Three Dog's hero. I want... I want to rest. I'm tired, Burke. Tired of fighting for survival. I deserve more than what the Wasteland has given me. Tenpenny Tower is what I deserve.”

 

“Deserve?”

 

“I'm more than willing to work for it.”

 

“And if I were to believe that very well rehearsed emotional reveal, why would we let you live here? The Lone Wanderer: a girl known by those who haven't met her as a hero and to those that have as a brutal, murderous psychopath.”

 

The Wanderer's eyes narrowed. The look on her face coupled with her blood red eyes was not lost on Gustavo's men who all looked slightly unsettled. Burke, however, was unfazed.

 

“No one hears from you for months. You've stayed off the grid. You're almost never seen anymore. One might surmise that you are staying away from civilization. However, I know how to trail people like you.”

 

“There are no people like me, Burke.”

 

“Of course there are. Murderers. Killers. Maniacs.”

 

This time the Wanderer's smile was in her head. She kept her face a carefully controlled mask. She had him. He'd finally underestimated her. She wasn't just another killer as he thought.

 

“I've followed your trail of corpses throughout the Wasteland. Until two months ago. You disappeared. Where were you?”

 

The Wanderer's mask cracked. Her eyes widened slightly. How did Burke know? No one knew!

 

“Did I touch a nerve? Tell me what happened. You were seen boarding a ferry owned by a man known as Tobar. Several weeks later, the ferry returned. No Tobar. Just you. And since then you've been living up to that name of yours and just wandering the Wasteland alone and aimlessly. What happened? Where did that ferry take you?”

 

The Wanderer's barely contained murderous rage was no act now. Dogmeat was sensing her unease and began to growl. The guards all shuffled forward with their rifles trained on them.

 

“Easy,” Gustavo cautioned.

 

“Tell me, Wanderer. Or you can die here. Tell me and we can discuss your proposal.”

 

With a snarl the Wanderer answered. “Point Lookout! I was taken to Point Lookout!”

 

“And?”  
  
With a hard glare she continued. “And I was tortured and attacked and beaten and left for dead. Do I need to go on?”

 

“None of those you have not experienced before.” Burke laughed at the expression on her face. “I've followed your history quite closely, Wanderer. I must say I'm surprised you've made it this long. Most people would have simply bit the proverbial bullet by now. I'll ask one more time. What. Happened?”

 

The Wanderer was shaking. Point Lookout was not something she enjoyed talking about. Or even thinking about. The marshes and swamps of that hell hole were pure evil. Evil that got in your soul and wore you down. She'd been stranded there for four weeks. Four weeks of barely managed survival. Every moment worse than the last.

 

Hot tears of rage slid down her cheeks. Her hands were clenching and unclenching in her lap.

 

“You want to know what happened? I was captured. Then drugged. Then I had a piece of my brain removed. Do you know what that does to a person?”

 

She paused a moment and looked Burke in the eyes. “Nothing good.”

 

Burke leaned back in satisfaction. “So you want me to hire you, one of the most dangerous people in the Wasteland? A girl often described as just a little unhinged. Someone who just admitted to not being all there anymore. Or am I to believe there were no side effects to your... surgery that I should worry about?”

 

“None,” the Wanderer hissed through gritted teeth. Quiet laughter echoed through her head, but she pushed them back down. The Voices were _not_ going to ruin this. Not now.

 

“Really,” he asked doubtfully. “I'm still waiting for an answer to why I should hire you.”

 

“Because Point Lookout taught me something. I don't owe the Wasteland anything. Point Lookout was the best thing to happen to me actually. It woke me up. I live for me. No one else. I do what I want. I get what I want. What I want is to live here while the rest of the Wasteland rots outside the walls, and I will do whatever you want to make that happen.”

 

“Then I believe we have a deal, Wanderer.” He held out his hand. His victorious smile was smug.

 

Her eyes flicked to it and then back to the hand. She slowly took the offered appendage and shook.

 

“We have a deal.”


End file.
